Wild Weather

Coming from Missouri, I'm used to wild spring weather. Having survived 100 year floods last November, and the ugly wind storm that foll0wed in December (2006), I thought I'd seen the worst of Western Washington weather.

Saturday, March 29th, was a busy day for me. I went to Monroe to check out the used book sale at the library...and managed to stay at my 20.00 self-imposed limit. At a dollar a hardback and 50 cents a paperback, I still came home with a box full. It was chilly, but the sun teased by making short-live appearances off and on all morning. I walked in the Skykomish River Park and picked a few stinging nettles (Urtica dioica) for soup. By 2 pm I was ready to head for Carnation, about 18 miles south on Highway 203. The sun was shining. I made a final stop, and drove out of town.

I parked at the Tolt -McDonald parking lot intending to walk along the river and take some pictures of the early blooming shrubs and flowers. I could see the mountains in the distance through some cloud cover. By the time I'd walked 300 yards and had started up the bridge, it started to sleet. I turned and looked over my shoulder. The mountains were invisible! The sleet quickly turned to hail...I changed my mind about crossing the river and decided to walk closer to the parking lot. I was glad to have a pair of light weight knit gloves in my pockets... they quickly got soaked through. The sky got dark, and the wind picked up. So I decided to go to the car and arrive at my bosses' 40th birthday party a bit early.

It rained off an on throughout dinner (the homemade lasagna was wonderful!). Around 7 pm I left in a light rain. It's only 8 miles or so to my Duvall home, and the weather went through some wild rain-to-snow-to sleet changes. The road was a little slick in a few spots. Not that it slowed the other drivers much. But I made it safely home and went upstairs. I put on some dry cloths, and gathered up a bag of trash that needed to go out.

I didn't realize it was snowing humongous flakes of fluffy white snow untill I opened the door and stepped out into it. I watched it snow until midnight. I was expected at Ben Franklin for work the following morning.

The drive to Monroe on Sunday was intense - for the first half mile or so. There were
5 cars off in the ditch on the downhill drive to the highway. Another was pointing up hill in the downhill lane. It had been abandoned there. I'd have turned around and gone home, but there wasn't a safe spot to do it. The highway was fine, and the closer I got to Monroe, the less snow I saw on the ground. The sun came out again.

And it's been out most of today - until time to go home. Just after 5, it started to thunder - soemthing I rarely hear in Washington, and don't miss from Missouri. It hailed...it snowed...I have to stop at the laundromat on my way home...I'll let you know if more weather adventures await.

Walking in the Rain

I was a bit late getting home yesterday, and found myself walking in the rain. The up-hill portion of my walk was pleasant enough. I'm building endurance and don't have to stop half way up the hill anymore to catch my breath. I noticed that the wind was picking up, but I was wearing my good Columbia jacket and I'd stuffed my gloves in the pockets. I could have turned at the top of the rise and gone straight home.

Instead, I turned to the south and enjoyed the level, smooth roadway that takes me to the downhill part of my long block. By the time I'd gotten to the bottom, it was really raining. I stuck my gloved hands into my pockets and walked on. Having lived 30 miles from Seattle for over a year, I've made my peace with the rain.

At the corner of my street it looked as if the rain was going to moderate a bit, so I kept walking. There's a new neighborhood going in on the hillside below my street, and I've often seen deer grazing at the edge. They had better sense than I did yesterday. By the time I'd gotten to the bottom of that block the wind really picked up and I was walking into a driving, cold rain.

Didn't stop me. I kept walking. My legs began to feel the cold as the rain soaked my pants legs. My face felt frozen, and my glasses fogged. It was great!

I've finally relaxed into the idea that the weather, like life, changes. Can't stop it. Might as well learn to enjoy the ride.

The Time, It Is A Changin'

I am fighting the time change with every fiber of my being...Haven't been able to drag myself out of bed to do my sit spot all week...



OK, so it's an excuse...and I am sticking to it. It seems like it's taking an awful lot of coffee to get me going this week. And I'm not going anywhere very fast. You'd think that would make sitting under a tree all the more inviting. But I'm cranky and sleepy, and I have not been sitting long under that tree. I haven't been writing every day, either. Those New Year's resolutions are quickly losing ground.

I have been walking in the evening, learning the new neighborhood. I often see deer, and have found the best place to stand and look out over the valley. It's beautiful with fog hanging in the low spots. It's more so when the sun breaks out over the ridges just before it sets. The sky turns all pink and purple and orange for a few minutes. I understand the meaning of the word "Awesome" on those evenings.

I'll adjust to the time change. I don't like it, even though I do get more evening light to explore. Change, even for the better, is hard for us humans. You'd think by now, I'd have learned to just relax into it, and not put up a fight. Apparently, that's a lesson I still have to learn.

I'm a Star!

I never thought I'd see my name in the credits at the end of a film, but I did today. I knew that Wilderness Awareness School was making a new DVD to send to people who request information about our Residential Program or our new Earth Mentor Program. And I have given permission for the use of any of my photographs that I took last year while in WARP07. But it was a big surprise today to see the end of the finished product, and then to see my name as the credits rolled.

I haven't even seen the whole film yet, and I feel like a star! It's incredibly nice to be able to give back a bit to a program that changed my life in so many ways. And the really cool thing is that the programs change things for everyone they touch. I'm excited that my photographs might encourage someone to come and give it a go. Now, if I can just stay humble....

So, How Did I Loose Those 20 Pounds?

I've been seeing a chiropractor for recurring shoulder and neck pain, which was exacerbated by the move. Books are heavy, and I know better, but still I get in a hurry and use bigger boxes than I should. One of the keys to my recovery is going to be walking.

I love to walk. Always have. When I came out to the Residential Program, I had gotten lazy aoubt it. The excuse was that my feet hurt. Badly. Long days of moving medical supplies at full tilt on a concrete floor had abused my poor feet, and I stopped walking for fun. That's when I started to gain weight. I spent many evenings after work with my feet proped up on pillows.

One of the best things about quitting the job I'd had for 25 years was being able to take better care of myself. In the Residential Program, we walked. Up hills, mostly, and with backpacks. I took to carryng about 25 pounds of stuff - water, lunch, field guides, and extra clothing - every where I went while in class. At first, I could barely make it up the hills...I was out of breath and my legs shook. As I got stronger, it got easier. My feet didn't hurt anymore, and I could handle the hills. I was never the fastest "kid" in the class, but I stopped being the last one to get to the top of the hill...or back to the vans.

Our first field trip to the Oregon Dunes had me convinced I'd never make it...the sand dunes were brutal. I had to have help getting to the top. The entire class was cheering me on as I crawled up the final 20 feet or so. Then Andrew reached down and pulled me up to the top. I knew then that I would make it through the year. It wasn't the last time I needed help, but it was the last time I thought about quiting the program.

As we hiked the mountains of western Washington, my feet got tougher, my legs stronger, and I lost about 20 pounds. By December, I was in pretty good shape. If I fell too far behind, it was becasue I'd stopped to look at something cool.

Since graduation, I've gotten lazy again. My Monroe neighborhood was getting kind of scarey to walk in. Without a dog to walk, I just didn't get out much. I started to gain back the pounds I'd lost.

Now, under doctor's orders, and in a new neighborhood, I'm walking again. I haven't put the pack on yet, but by summer I plan to be ready for some serious hiking.

4 Days and Counting

When the alarm went off this morning I really wanted to turn over and go back to sleep...but I didn't. It's the 4th day of the sit spot challenge, and I've been out each morning sitting under a big Cedar tree. If I wasn't so lazy, I'd look up the latin name, but I'm worn out from moving, and my brain will not call up much English, let alone latin.

Mostly I've been listening to birds. Stellar's Jays, Ravens, Towhees, Robins, and small birds that I don't yet recognize. On Saturday, I saw a racoon climb head first down a tree across the road behind my apartment. It's always fun to see what happens when the "locals" forget that you are there watching. I'll keep you posted on what goes on in the early morning hours near my place.

Sit Spot Story

Today begins a 30-day sit spot challenge here at Wilderness Awareness School. It's one of the simplest awareness excercises we do, and the easist to "forget".

I have to confess that I haven't done a sit spot for a long time. Too many scary young people in my old neighborhood. The big old Cedar trees at the park where I used to walk have been spray painted with bold black and red symbols and the police find stollen property in the blackberry bramble where I used to roam.

I set the alarm half an hour early today so that I could go out and sit under a tree and watch the world wake up. The morning sky was pink. The birds were vocal, and the squirrels fat and active. What a beautiful morning!

Mom and the Tornado

I hadn't heard from Mom or my sister, Susan, since the tornados that hit the south last weekend. I'd tried to call, but no one answered, and I was really starting to get worried. A couple of days ago, I finally reached Mom. This is how the conversation went:

Me: Hi, I was getting worried about you. I heard on the news that there had been a lot of tornados and bad storms down your way (northern Arkansas).

Mom: Oh yes, your sister and I were right in the middle of one.

Me: (Stunned silence...)

Mom: We had been to Wal-Mart to return something, and had stopped at Ash Flats to get gas at the Mini Mart. Susan went in to pay, and they pushed her into the woman's bathroom because there was a tornado coming. She tried to get out and they threw her back in...she said she had to go out and get her Mamma...a big guy said he'd come get me. (Stopping to catch breath)

Me: (Still speachless)

Mom: All of a sudden this big guy yanks the car door open and pulls me out and drags me to the Mini Mart. I didn't know if he was kidnapping me or what....

Me: (Visions of my 4'11" mother dragging her heels in as the "big guy" tries to get her inside to safety) Didn't you know there was a tornado?

Mom: Well stuff was blowing around and it was real dark, but I didn't know there was a tornado. That guy drug me inside and threw me in the woman's bathroom with all the rest - men, too, and we waited there for a while until the men got brave and went out to see if it was safe. Next time some guy opens my car door and pulls me out, I'm just going to go with him.

Me: Ok then...that's why I'm living near Seattle.

Moving Pains

There isn't an 11:45 pm train...or a 5:30 am one either. I slept soundly in my new apartment. I awoke to peaceful surroundings. No early am car door slamming. No rowdy neighbors throwing up on my sidewalk after a night of partying. Yahoo! Not only is it half the price of my old apartment, but it's a better place for nature study. There are a couple of sweet sit spot locations just outside my windows. Clara has found a window seat on the world, too. Cat and I are both happy.

The down side? I feel like I've been run over by a truck...there's a permanent cramp in the bicep of my left arm. My neck hurts. There's a funny tingle in my lower back. The only time I've ever regretted being a reader is when I've had to move my books. Yikes...I must be getting old.

Snow Day

One of the cool things we learned to do in the Residential Program was called the Story of the Day. This is how my day went...

I started off feeling pretty content and thinking about all I have to do to be ready to move this weekend. There was about 3" of fresh snow on the ground here in Monroe, but the streets were not too bad, and once I hit 2o3, I didn't have any trouble...the pace was about 35 mph, and everone was driving sensibley. It doesn't often snow here in the valley, and I've seen a number of cars in the ditch when it does. On the news, I've seen the Seattle streets nearly closed by the number of cars that made it halfway up a hill, only to be abandoned when they could not go further...By Missouri standards, this morning seemed to be pretty mild.

I made it to Duvall and turned on to Cherry Valley Road and then onto Allen Street as usual. Again, it didn't look bad - I've driven up it in much worse snow and never had a bit of trouble...the Bravada has all wheel drive, and the hill isn't all that steep. I don't know what the difference was today, but I had to make 3 tries to get up the hill, then slide sideways around the corner and clipped the mail box at the edge of the parking lot.

My first wreck - unless you count the time I did $18.00 of damage to a guys car in the parking lot at Wal-Mart when I was learning to back out of a parking space. Luckily, Johnny and John W. (we also have John C. and John G., so it gets confusing) were there to help me out of the mess I'd gotten into. The landlord tells me it's happened before, and the mail box probably can be fixed really easily. As wrecks go, it was pretty uneventful, as was the rest of the day. I left early to get home before dark, and the highway was clear.

There's supposed to be a bigger storm coming in overnight, so I'm planning to use a different route to work, and park down the block in a level parking lot.

Once I'm in my new apartment, I can walk to work if I want, leaving my car in the garage...I'm really glad that I won't be navigating 203 in bad weather or after dark after this week. As much as I hate the moving process, I can't wait to get it done. I'll be giving up the bubble baths...unless I can figure out how to plug up the shower...Perhaps there's a story in here for another day.

Green Willies

I stayed out late on Thursday to learn how to do a Green Willie...Ok, so that didn't sound good. Let me explain. I was at the library learning how to tie some basic trout flies from Ron Torda, who owns the All About the Fly store here in Monroe.

I was in his shop this past spring to ask about buying a fishing license. He doesn't sell them, but told me where I could get one, and suggested some flies to use on spring trout in Lake Margaret. The Green Willie was one I bought. I did get a bite on it, the one time I've actually used my fishing license. But I got excited, and pulled the fly out before the hook was set. From what I learned on Thursday, there's a chance that it was a native Cutthroat Trout (Salmo clarki) that hit on the Green Willie.

I caught my 1st Rainbow (Salmo gairdneri) on a night crawler using a bobber and a plain old spinning reel on the Madison River in Montana the summer I was 13. My maternal grandparents took my cousin Jennifer (who was 16 and could help drive) and me to Yellowstone that August to meet our great Uncle Gerald and his wife Jean. I'd left my coat at home and fished wrapped up in a blanket off the bed in our motel room. We had the trout rolled in cornmeal and fried in lard, along with fried potatoes and onions, and hush puppies.

In southern Missouri, I caught a Brown Trout (Salmo trutta) from a pontoon boat while fishing with friends who live near Branson. It was too small to keep, and so I threw it back. Again, I was using a spinning reel.

I learned how to tie a woolly worm, then a woolly bugger, and a hare's ear nymph before I ever picked up a fly rod. I took the fly tying class at a Becoming An Outdoors Woman weekend, and the basic fly fishing class the next year. I'm not proficient by any means, and I've only caught a couple of Bluegill (Lepomis macrochirus) so far, but I have a standing invitation to fish Lake Margaret. And now I know how to do a Green Willie.

Today's Rant Brought To You By...

Sometimes it just seems like stupid runs the world...I've missed 2 days of blogging and weather journals because I couldn't get connected to the internet at home. Now, I try not to abuse the computer at work, but I did check my personal e-mail today...to find a message from netzero explaining that I couldn't get on the internet, and telling me how to fix it. Now, it did work, but if I can't get on the internet, how is an e-mail gonna help? In all fairness to netzero, there was a phone message when I got home. It told me to go on the internet - if I had another way to connect - and find the instructions for the fix. Technology...

The other thing I'm mad about is that I've found an apartment that's close enough to my job to walk to work, and the cat's welcome, and I can park in the garage, and it's really small, so it's $400.00 cheaper than where I live now, and the utilities are paid. So I gave the state-mandated 20 day written notice, and learned that what the state means is "20 days notice, unless you plan to move in the middle of the month". Unless that notice is given before the 10th of the month, they can legally make you pay an entire months rent. So, my 20 day notice had become a 39 day notice. But the rental office assures me that I'm good to move out by the 1st of March. Looks like I'll be paying 2 months rent for February, and I'm not happy about it. And this after the January 1 big headline on the local newspaper was about how hard (and expensive) it is to rent in Monroe because there are so few apartments and so many eager, willing, and funded applicants.

The up side is that the place I'm looking at has a sweet sit spot, and it's in a quiet neighborhood where I can walk in the evening without being afraid of the neighbors. I came home yesterday to find a message from the local police warning me of car prowls in the neighborhood. That's on top of the drunks who threw up on my sidewalk at midnight while back.

And the thing that's really made me mad today? I got the clear impression driving home that my luck will change only when I am able to forgive the RB for leaving me in financial shambles. See, ya'll are not the first to listen to my rants today. And what came to me is this:
"Stop calling him a Rat B******d."

So, this is my public apology to my ex. I promise not to use that name in this blog any more. And that makes me really unhappy. Because I liked it.

I'm back on line, blogging and weather journaling- did you see that moon last night? I'm figuring out how to make this move without imploding. I'm expecting some good news in the
finacial department. And I hope the ex has a long and happy life. Amen.

Product Review: Kombi Gloves

Margaret asks what gloves I liked for winter fun here in the Pacific Northwest. The warmest ones I've used are some Kombi brand women's gloves I got at a local sports shop (Big Five) in the ski section. I got the women's medium size in the heavy weight, and they are marked "Watergaurd". I remember paying over $25.00 for them, and they were on sale. It's been a good investment.

Here are the things I like about them:

• They fit my hands - I've had trouble finding gloves that fit well.
• They are light-weight and attractive. If I could find a second pair in camo, I'd be tickled.
• They are soft and flexible, which was a great help when bundled up for snowshoeing.
• The palms are thin leather which helps grip the poles.
• They have Velcro straps to tighten around the wrist so cold air and snow doesn't get in.
• They are toasty warm even for long days outdoors. In fact, my hands will sweat if it's not cold enough to wear them.

There is one thing that I found a little annoying, and the label inside the glove warns about it. You do have to be very careful when removing them. The instructions say to pull each finger off individually, holding the lining as well as the outer shell. It's really easy to invert the lining, and it's a real pain to poke it back. However, if they sewed the lining to the shell, it would ruin their weatherproof function. This is a bigger problem when my hands are sweaty, so I only wear them when it's cold. They are the warmest pair of gloves I've ever had, and they are well worth paying more for.

Book Review: "Living Wild and Domestic"

It's an interesting experience to finish a book and think, "I could have done that myself." Of course, I couldn't have done it as well as Robert Kimber. He says things I think with far greater skill than I even manage to think them. I found his book, "Living Wild and Domestic - The Education of a Hunter-Gardener" at the library while browsing the shelves. It looked interesting, so I added it to my pile of take-homes. And read all the others first.

Rarely does a hunter express the dichotomy of loving to hunt while hating to kill with anything approaching Kimber's finesse. Anyone who hunts successfully knows the dilema. There is - or should be - a bit of sadness attending to putting game on the table. It's a serious thing to take a life, even when it's going in the stew pot. It's the same with animals raised for meat. To get dinner on the table, the animal has to die.

Even an unrepentant carnivore like me wants some vegetables to go with the steak. Kimber's wife is the gardener in his equation. It's been about 5 years since I've been able to plant a garden...I miss it. Growing your food makes you responsible for your dinner in a way that going to the grocer does not. The care put into digging, planting and tending is revealed in the harvest. The big thing I miss about Missouri is standing in the garden in the hottest day of summer with fresh tomato juice dripping off my elbow as I eat the first Brandiwine right there.

If you are concerned about your food, where it comes from, and how it gets to the plate, this is a good book to read. If you hunt and/or grow your own food (animal or vegetable) it will sort out your feelings about your actions. If you buy all your food, it might help you understand why some of us do it ourselves.

Lair of the Leopard - Day 1

I stopped under the carved leopard’s head just outside the canvas-covered doorway of Malalo Ya Chui and wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Once I stepped inside the rustic 8-sided structure I would be committing – really committing - to spending nine months of my life with whomever I found inside.

Coming here was an act of desperation. I had to make some major changes in my life if I was going to survive… changes that I chose instead of the ones that had been chosen for me. I wondered if I had the courage to do it. I was already late. Would it really matter if I just slunk off down the trail to the parking lot and left? I’d be out the deposit, but it wasn’t too late to change my mind.

My Missouri eyes had not yet adjusted to the intense greens of the lush vegetation that surrounded me. I didn’t recognize many of the trees or plants. The giant Western Red cedars (Thuja plicata) looked familiar, if much larger than the cedar trees of home, and I saw Maple-like leaves, but the trees, Vine Maples ( Acer circinatum), were different from the Maples I was familiar with. The mosses and ferns were foreign to me. Even the birds I heard calling in the forest were not the birds I knew. This place was a jungle to me.

Then I remembered the reason I was here…To learn about new things and places... To expand my paremeters...There was a welcoming wood smoke wafting up from the center of the roof, and I reasoned that the people inside must be much like me…Who else would sign up for a naturalist training program? Knowing only that told me that I had more in common with them than I had with the majority of the people I’d ever met. I was going to be alright here.

I looked to the leopard for confirmation. Lair of the Leopard - that’s what Malalo Ya Chui means. It’s located on the property called Linne Doran, or Pond of the Otter, in the Cascade foothills near Duvall, Washington. I had enrolled in the Residential Program at the Wilderness Awareness School. I was 2000 miles from home…and closer to Home than I ever had been.

The leopard was silent, letting me choose. I chose to go in. The moment I lifted the canvas to enter I knew I’d made the right decision. I can’t explain it. It just felt right, and good, and comfortable. The gut feeling I’d had when I’d stumbled on to the school’s website returned with a power that took my breath. This was where I was supposed to be now, this year, this class. This was where I needed to be. A thought came so fast and hard that I could not disbelieve it. “This is where you can heal.” Intuition is something that I had come to respect the hard way. I am a believer. I entered the lair.

The Sun Does Shine in the Pacific Northwest

Today I'm thankful for sunshine...and for my cat, Clara, who is being very affectionate right now...and for my friends here, and back in Missouri...and for family in Arkansas, Okalahoma, Missouri, and Wyoming...and that my co-worker's baby girl was born safely on Thursday...OK, so I probably did that backwards, but the sun was beautiful today. I couldn't find my sunglasses, but that's OK, too.

At WAS we started every day of class with some version of the Thanksgiving Address. It's a good way to start any day, and I try to be mindful of my many blessings. Some of my classmates in the Residential Program had a tough time with the generally cloudy weather here. The California folks, in particular, seemed to hate the dreary days and the rain. I like it. One of my biggest migraine triggers is sunlight bouncing off chrome and mirrors. I love being able to drive without worrying about that.

Although it does rain often here, it's usually not raining very hard, and I hardly ever hear thunder or see lightning. I have seen hail a couple of times, and sleet, and snow...but compared to Missouri weather, it's generally pretty mild. I appreciate the sunshine, and know that tomorrow it will probably be overcast and/or raining to some degree. I won't waste time tonight looking for those sunglasses, because it will likely be a few days before I'll need them again. And thats OK with me.

Of Formerly Stray Cats, Target Balls and Arkansas Pecans

This is the story that my friend Margaret asked for early on in this blog. For her, I'll retell it. Rest assured that no cats were injured and no target balls broken...

In the fall of 1999, the RB talked me into building a house. I thought it was a bad idea for a lot of reasons, the least of which being that the little voice in my head was screaming, "Don't do it!" And that's a story for another day, because if I get off on that trail, you will never know what happened with the cat...to move things along, I'll just say that the house was built and we moved in over Labor Day weekend of the year 2000 with our 3 older Brittany Spaniels. And God started to send stray cats to the door. In short order, I'd taken in a beautiful Siamese cross female I called Clara, and her half-brother, a sleek black shorthair I called Gus.

Never, never start to name stray animals after characters in a large book. Larry McMurtry's "Lonesome Dove" has a cast of...well, lots of interesting characters. Before I was done, I'd fed half of them in feline form.

Time passed, and the cats had their surgeries and grew to young adulthood. The dogs adjusted, and my sister's family came up from Arkansas to visit. Susan brought me a Wal-Mart bag full of big Arkansas pecans in the shell, which she gave me as an afterthought as they were packing the car to go home. I sat the bag on the table and said goodby to my sister and her family. I should have taken care of the pecans, but the mail had come and I had a big envelope from a guy named Ralph Finch.

To explain that, I have to tell you that I like to think of myself as a target ball collector. I have 2. What's a target ball? Think Buffalo Bill, Annie Oakley, and Capt. Bogardus (and if you know who the Captain was, we really should talk). In their time, they were the champion target shooters. And what they most often shot were blown glass target balls. Not a whole lot of them survive, and all but the plainest bring good prices on e-bay. I got my first, a 3-piece unmarked amber one, at a local auction. One of the guys bidding against me gave me Ralph's name, as he's the editor of "On Target", and a respected authority on all things relating to target balls. I'd sent Ralph a check and a request for back issues of the magazine, and that's what was in the envelope. I wanted to sit down and read at least one issue before cleaning up.

As cats are apt to do, Gus decided to get on the table and investigate the white bag...and he managed to loop the handle over his head, which scared him. I heard him hit the floor with a yowl, immediatly followed by the thump of the heavy pecan bag. Before I could drop the magazine, Gus had made 2 circuits around the dining room/kitchen/living room, and had bounced off the big picture window before heading down the hall to hide under the bed. The bag flew after him like Superman's cape, slinging pecans every which way.

Gus eventually came out from under the bed and allowed me to remove the tattered remains of the bag from his neck. He stayed off the table after that. Every time I vaccumed, I found pecans. When I moved out a couple of years later, there were still a few under the couch.

Clara's sitting by the door looking out the glass as I write, but Gus disappeared into the forest not long after I got to Washington. She hasn't said what happened to him. Always the adventurer, I expect he tried to make friends with a coyote or a bobcat... I searched for him for many weeks but never found any sign.

Product Review: Atlas Snowshoes

For the 4th or 5th time I went to my knees...the snow, which was around 20 inches deep made for a soft landing, but also complicated getting up. It took some practice before I learned to use the poles to pull myself upright. Snowshoes, I found, are a lot like skis...you have to keep the tips up or you'll fall. And they don't keep you on top of the snow, but instead of falling through to past my knees, I only sunk to ankle depth.

I put a lot of thought into buying my 1st pair of snowshoes. We got our winter gear list in early December, so I had time to shop around. I'm a traditionalist, and like the way the old fashioned leather and wood variety look. But in the damp Pacific Northwest, they aren't very practical. I knew I'd have to settle for a modern metal and plastic pair. I had no idea how many brands and styles of snowshoes there are!

First, I read all I could about the art of snowshoeing...even back in Missouri I thought it sounded like fun. Once I figured out the key to choosing the right pair, I started to narrow the field. Here are the 2 most important things to know before your buy snowshoes.

• How much do you weigh - and how heavy will your pack be? Snowshoes are rated for a weight range, and the more you weigh or carry, the longer the snowshoe should be.
• Will you be snowshoeing on groomed trails and level ground, or will you be going off trail over uneven terrain, or will you be making your own trail on steep and/or dangerous terrain? Again, there are snowshoes for each degree of difficulty.

Given that my weight plus a full pack would run about 170-180 pounds, and that while we would be off trail and in the mountains, we were not likely to get into seriously dangerous terrain, I wanted 27 inch women's snowshoes for moderate terrain.

After studying several snowshoe company web sites, I decided on the Atlas Elektra 927 with poles and a carrying case. This brand boasts what they call a "spring-loaded suspension" which I felt would be gentler on my old lady ankles. They also have a binding that's easy to cinch and easy to remove. The women's style is a bit narrower than the man's style which makes for a more natural gait. They have toe crapons and a heel cleat for traction. The Aluminum frames are sturdy but light weight, and the Neytex decking remains flexible when cold. The 927 is rated for moderate terrain and a weight range of 120-200 pounds. The poles are 2-part and adustable, and the carrying case keeps them nice and neat for travel, and is ventilated so they dry well.

I ordered them from L.L.Bean at the sale price of 179.00. They were delivered promptly and served me well on our winter camping trip. I would recommend them to weekend and beginnig snowshoers. The value for the price is very good. I expect to use them for many winters to come.

Odds and Ends

I forgot to mention that I chose the Very, Very Berry fruit infusion last night...delicious! I'm going to have another cup right now.

I'm doing pretty good on my resolutions...I've only missed one day of posting here, I'm keeping my weather journal every day, and I've stopped reading a book after only 17 pages! I could do better with the bubble bath and the wine.

I've talked with Mom, my sister Susan, and friends Madonna (Lowell, not the singer), Cheryl, and Filip this week...some of them 2-3 times.

There's a women's hiking group that I'm going to check out tomorrow after work.

Don't Discount What You Do

I had decided that I wouldn't send my sister any more coupons. For some time I'd been taking the coupons from the Sunday paper that I didn't use and mailing them to Susan every Monday. She lived near Bakersfield, California at the time, and it seemed like a waste of my time and 2 stamps to send them. I doubted she got that much use from them, and it was a pain to mess with them. So, I wasn't going to do it anymore...until I got her phone call.

At first, I couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying...it was the former. Here's the story she told me.

She had been working in the livingroom by the open window. That's how she heard Bryan's conversation with the mailman. My nephew had been sitting by the mailbox so that he would be first to see my envelope. He took it from the mailman's hands and told him what an important letter it was. "It's from my Aunt in Missouri," he explained. "She loves us and sends us coupons so we don't starve."

Now, my sister's kids were not going to starve without the weekly envelope from me. But to this day, even though Bryan is an adult with a family of his own, I still send my sister coupons.

You never know what it is that you do that is the most important thing to someone else. What I saw as unwanted coupons were a love gift to my nephew. Sometimes we never hear the story and so never know what a difference we make in someone else's life. But I'll bet there's some little thing that you do which means the world to someone else. Keep sending out your coupons.

I had a lovely surprise dinner out with Pam today. She's an elder at WAS, and a tracker, too. I shared this story with her today. She's one of the people who have made a difference for me...her gifts are many, and she shares them generously with everyone she meets. Pam, thank you for sharing your "coupons".